


Red, Red Wine

by oldenuf2nb



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-14
Updated: 2007-12-14
Packaged: 2018-10-27 16:29:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10812693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldenuf2nb/pseuds/oldenuf2nb
Summary: Harry, Draco and Mulled Wine





	Red, Red Wine

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for Tart for The Quidditch Pitch December 2007 Secret Elf Challenge

They were drunk.

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, the unlikeliest duo in Hogwarts history, were sitting in a darkened stairwell in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and they were drunk, having consumed between them two bottles of Draco’s grandmother’s purloined aged Mulled Wine.  Somewhere below the first Yule Ball since the end of the war went on far into the night, and they could hear music drifting up the stairs, but they’d long before decided that, for once, they were in complete accord and had no desire to be there.  When Draco had arched a brow at Harry and offered to get him drunk, it had seemed far preferable to watching Ron and Hermione make calf eyes at one another, and dodge the advances of every girl in school over the age of fifteen.  Ginny was with Neville, and Harry wasn’t nearly as disturbed about it as he thought he probably should have been, but two bottles of wine in, he wasn’t really disturbed about much of anything.

“Hate these fucking things,” Draco grumbled, lifting the bottle to his lips.  Harry watched in misty fascination his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“I thought you liked getting all dolled up,” Harry said with a silly smile, lifting the wine and taking another drink as well.

“Well, I do have phenomenal taste in clothes,” Draco said with the exaggerated somberness of the very inebriated.  

“God’s honest truth, that,” Harry said charitably.  

Draco turned his head and peered at him in the dimness.  “Thank you, Potter.”

“You’re welcome, Malfoy.” 

“But these parties seem…” the blond sighed, suddenly looking weary, and he set the bottle on the floor with a dull thud.  He looked up at Harry blearily.  “Don’t they seem just…asinine?”

Harry stared into the grey eyes for a moment, then nodded.  “A bit,” he answered.  “But you have to remember; they didn’t see what we did.”

Draco’s eyes darkened, and he leaned his fair head back against the stone wall.  “Lucky for them,” he said with a sigh.  Nothing more needed to be said.  Harry had seen, through Voldemort’s own eyes, the horrors Draco had suffered.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed finally.  “Anyway, did you dump your date?”

“What date?” Draco responded with a wry grimace.  “Not much prestige in being seen with the Malfoy heir anymore.” He shot Harry a sideways look.  “What’s your excuse?”

Harry shuddered.  “I never know if any of them want to be with me, or with Harry Potter.”

Draco nodded sagely.  “I imagine it’s hard to tell, sometimes.”

Harry eyes went to Draco’s.  “You’re the first person whose understood what I meant by that.” 

“I have eyes, Potter,” he said dryly.  “They follow you around in droves.”

“It’s bloody infuriating.” 

 “I imagine.” Those grey eyes that seemed to see more than they let on studied Harry’s face for so long that the brunet began to wonder just what he was looking for, but he didn’t look away.  

“So,” he said at length, one brow arched.  “Wanna fuck?”

Harry blinked myopically, mouth slightly open, certain he’d heard wrong.  “Beg pardon?”

Draco threw his head back and laughed, and the sound carried down the deserted stairwell.  “I said,” he repeated, scooting closer to Harry on his knees, grey eyes sparkling.  “Do you want to fuck?”

Harry found air suddenly in short supply, but he was too stunned and too drunk to put together the idea of moving away.  “Malfoy, I don’t . . . what are you . . . hey!”

But Malfoy, still smiling that same knowing, enigmatic smile, smoothly lifted one of his long legs and straddled Harry’s lap.  When he settled his weight, he looked up into Harry’s eyes with a shadow of his trademark smirk.  “You don’t?” He breathed.  “Because, for someone who doesn’t, you’re surprisingly . . . engaged.”  He blinked innocently, but Harry knew that he’d felt the evidence that Harry was, indeed, engaged and had become so in a dizzying rush.

“Malfoy, I don’t know what you’re thinking,” Harry said breathlessly, taking hold of the slender boys upper arms.  “But I’m not . . .”

“Ah, Potter,” Malfoy crooned.  “You are.  You’ve had your eyes on my fine white arse for three years.  Not that I mind,” he added with equanimity.  “We just had too much history to make anything possible before now.  But the war is over, Harry.” He leaned in and licked the curve of Harry’s throat, and the whimper that responded was embarrassingly needy. “You and the Weaslette are over.  And I want you so much that my balls ache with it.” This was said in an earthy growl, and Harry’s breath stuttered.  “I ache right . . . here.” Draco slid his hips forward, and Harry felt the stiffness of Draco’s cock and the soft globes just beneath as the slender hips rotated on him, grinding that softness into his hardened length.

“Oh, shit,” he gasped, but instead of pushing him away, Harry’s hands tightened on Draco’s biceps even as the blond moaned needily in his ear.  

“Don’t tell me you don’t want this, don’t need this,” Draco breathed into Harry’s ear.  “You’re so hard that a few more minutes of this, and I’ll have  you creaming your pants.”  Harry groaned again, a combination of pleasure and aching need, but Draco caught the sound in his mouth and kissed him, thrusting his tongue into the warm heat.  Finally, when Harry was so hard and so dizzy with want that he couldn’t think, Draco pulled back.  

“Come on, Potter,” he whispered.  “Let’s go someplace more comfortable and get off of this cold floor.  And I’ve a present for you, _Harry._ ”  Harry lifted his head and looked into the grey eyes, now on his, both warm and knowing.  He leaned back in, lips brushing the shell of Harry’s ear.  “It’s your lucky day.  I don’t top.”

And as the significance of that statement sank in, Draco pushed himself to his feet and reached down with his hand.  Harry looked at it for a long moment, then took it with a slow smile.


End file.
